Believe it or not, there was a time when Greta Abney had it all figured out. Marriage, a family, and a thriving career all by the age of 30 was her plan. But plans change, and now she's drinking alone at her best friend's baby announcement party.
A...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✦✦✦
♫ stolen moments by cautious clay ♫
Greta's light snoring slowly pulled him back into the world.
The buzzing hum from her half-opened mouth was a little more than an amusing sight to wake up to. It was almost too difficult to give into the temptation of playing with her hair as all her short, blonde tresses were sprawled over his chest.
Lightly, he traced his fingers through the strands, as though he had some natural gift of applying care to her ravaged bed hair. And just when her head nuzzled underneath his touch, he cautiously stopped, only to hear a light murmur break out from the early morning silence.
"No... Don't stop, I like it..."
He grinned tiredly before continuing on, and Greta smiled with her eyes closed. "Did we sleep the whole night?" She asked him.
And he grumbled out. "You still got your sweatpants on, so I guess so."
That was when Greta gave a soft smirk before glancing upward to find Eli's face. Then with a welcome of her own, she kissed along her chest before resting back onto it. "Oh, that's how you prefer it? I lie here just as naked as you?"
"Shit, I ain't opposed to it."
That urged Greta to even laugh a little. "I guess we're just gonna be those kinds of couples then. Always naked around each other, fighting the urge not to have sex every hour on the hour."
"Aye chill out, you squirt too much and I ain't got that many towels." He said before his chest vibrated in a few chuckles that only left Greta to slap him on his bicep. "What else are we finna do? Y'know, since we're those types of couples..."
"Give each other silly nicknames. Have pictures of each other as our phone background. You'll have to get used to me playing HAIM everytime we're in this room."
"And Mumford and Sons?"
"You're crossing a line, Georgia Boy."
Then, he chuckled. "That's what you gonna keep callin' me?"
"Why? Don't like it?"
"Maybe."
"Hmph, well too bad. You're my Georgia Boy."
Eli rolled his eyes and scoffed at her remark. "And what I get to call you?"
"Whatever you want?" She offered at first. "I liked when you called me Twizzler Girl when we first met."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm. Or Twizzie. I like Twizzie." Amid her giddy grin, he only subjected himself to kissing her cheek, then softly, he muttered back.
"Twizzie sounds silly as hell."
"Exactly. And nobody will call me that but you."
Ignoring her, Eli soon wrapped his arms around Greta entirely. When much of her sandy-toned back was covered up by the darkness of his forearms, she surrendered as much of herself onto him. And when fully on top, she kissed deep into his lips, morning breath be damned.